Witch Hunter Olivia (11 page)

I can’t help but get all hot and bothered when Heath enters my mind after seeing the tattoo. I feel a warm sensation coursing through my entire body, and it’s definitely not the hot water. It feels like lingering energy from Heath’s touch, and I find myself yearning for his actual hands to be all over me.

I think it’s safe to say I’ve got it bad.

Ah, normalcy. Well, kind of.

I’m sitting in my English class, and I should be paying attention to Professor Gimble’s lecture, but he’s making it so difficult. I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard a more monotone voice in my entire life. So, instead of listening to him read random passages from one of his favorite Edgar Allan Poe shorts before proceeding to pick them apart one by one, I’m sitting here thinking about what the hell we’re going to do.

It occurred to me last night, after another endless discussion of how we’re going to deal with our unknown assailant, that I have no idea what to do. Last night was sort of our Hail Mary play, and it ended with me getting shot and my attacker escaping. So I’m definitely not marking that in the win column. As far as another plan goes, it’s not like I have a lot of choices, since there’s this whole potential-for-war thing looming over my head.

The slam of the book in Professor Gimble’s hands snaps me out of my daze. It’s the liveliest thing that’s happened this whole period, which is such a shame because I love Edgar Allan Poe. When he dismisses the class, I can feel the combined internal sigh of relief from all the students.

“That guy makes me want to die again, seriously,” Tara groans in a whisper as we leave the classroom.

My reply is halted when I see Heath leaning against the wall across from us with a grin resting between two handsome dimples.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Tara laughs. “Remember, we’re supposed to meet Angelica in the quad in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be right there. And yes, before you say anything, I realize I’m being a terrible bodyguard. But if I don’t actually go to class more than once a week, I’ll get chucked out. Besides, all the attacks have happened at night, so I’m sticking with that pattern,” I explain while watching Heath stroll over to us.

“Guilty conscience, huh?” she quips, causing me to send her a withering stare. “Hey, Heath. Don’t keep Liv long, ’kay? We’ve got to talk battle strategies in the quad.”

He laughs off her comment as she moves down the hall. “Battle strategies, huh?”

“Yeah, I was afraid this might happen. You give Tara an inch, she takes a mile. Have to love her commitment to the bit though.”

“How’s the arm holding up?”

“Better today. I got a nice jolt in the shower last night.” I immediately begin to blush once I remember what I was thinking about in the shower.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you about putting it under running water for the first time,” he replies while rubbing the back of his neck. He gently takes hold of my arm and rolls up my sleeve to examine the tattoo. “At least it’s healing nicely.”

I giggle. “I’m starting to notice you forget to tell me a lot of things.” He acts like he’s offended, but I can tell he’s joking. “Did you really come here to chat about my arm and the tattoo?” I ask, rolling the shirt’s sleeve back down.

“Well, that was two of the things. I was also going to ask about Angelica … and wanted to say how I’ve been thinking about nothing else but you since you left the parlor last night,” he answers, his deep soothing voice and striking blue eyes emphasizing his point.

“Oh, really?” I inquire, moving closer to him.

“Really,” he replies, stepping toward me.

“Well, Angelica’s doing as fine as someone can in her situation.”

“And?” he asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“And what?” I answer, knowing full well what he wants me to comment on.

His mouth breaks into a smirk and a small chuckle slips out. “Right here, that’s where you just stabbed me,” he teases, jabbing his thumb into his chest.

“Of course I’ve been thinking about you too. It’s nice to see you squirm for a change.”

“What do you say to the idea that once this is all over, we go on a real date with no drama? I’m thinking dinner, movie … sex. You know, the usual.”

I give him a love tap on the chest. “And that right there is why I didn’t want to admit you’ve been on my mind.”

“I was joking. Well, mostly.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, have you found any leads on my brother’s whereabouts?”

“I’ve checked all the typical Hunter hangouts and no one’s seen him lately,” he replies.

“There’s one last person we can talk to, but it might require a trip to The Reaping. You up for it tonight?”

“Aren’t you the least bit worried about the Guild being after you?” His eyes show concern. “That’s sort of their main hangout, remember?”

“Who do you think we’re going to go talk to?”

“You’re crazy, you know that? Absolutely gorgeous, but crazy.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Are you in or not?”

“Pick you up at ten?”

“It’s a date.” My response causes his eyebrows to rise.

“A date?” he repeats. “Was that a figure of speech, or did you just ask me out all Sadie Hawkins style?”

I give him a pat on the shoulder. “I guess the world will never know. See you at ten, Heath,” I call over my shoulder as I walk away.

“Yeah, see you then.”

The lunch crowd is in full effect at the quad, but I’m still able to find Tara and Angelica through the sea of people. The moment Tara sees me, she waves me over.

“Sorry to hold up our little meeting. I had to have a chat with a certain someone.”

“You mean the hottie from last night?” Angelica asks with a sassy grin. “I’ve never been into the whole tattoo thing, but for him, I’d change my mind.”

“Yep, that’d be the one,” I reply.

Angelica releases a quick laugh. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? First, you save my life, and now come to find out you’ve got a thing for a half-warlock. All while being a Hunter. Well, I’m impressed, to say the least.”

“First of all, I’m an ex-Hunter, and things are complicated at best with Heath, so let’s leave it at that.”

“She’s not going to budge on that issue, Angelica. Believe me, I’ve tried,” Tara pipes up.

“Okay, let’s focus less on me and what I do, and more on what our plan’s going to be,” I say in exasperation. “I’m going to do some digging around town tonight with Heath. There might be someone who can help us figure out what’s going on. I think it’d be best if both of you stay in the room tonight until I get back.”

“Who are you going out to find?” Tara asks.

“Someone, okay?” is all I reply. Her eyes narrow and lips scrunch, but thankfully she doesn’t press the issue.

“I can give you tonight, but …” Angelica interjects while pulling out a bright pink planner from her tote bag with her sorority’s Greek letters stitched onto it. “Tomorrow night is the pre-hell week Greek life bonfire.”

“Uh, can’t you skip it? In case you’ve forgotten, someone’s trying to
kill
you.” I’m met by glares from both Tara and Angelica. Angelica’s glare is in direct relation to my last question, but Tara’s been glaring at me since my last answer.

“Let me put it this way: if I miss this event, I might as well let whoever’s out to kill me, kill me. Not attending an event as important as the pre-hell week bonfire is, like, Greek life suicide,” Angelica explains with frustration. “I’m sorry, but there isn’t any other way to do this. Being in a sorority isn’t just a thing you do in your spare time, Olivia. It’s a way of life, and people depend on me.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. It’s important. But so is your life, and I’m kind of in charge of protecting that right now,” I reply with my own sense of aggravation.

“How about we all go, and you can stalk Angelica from afar, Liv?” Tara chimes in.

“All right, but can you at least compromise and not stay the whole time? The less you’re out and about, the better. At least until we get this whole situation resolved.”

“Unfortunately, no. The bonfire involves this whole ritual that lasts ’til the end of the ceremony,” she answers, much to my disappointment.

“Then you better come up with a good excuse for why I’ll be attached to your hip the whole time you’re there,” I say with a forced smile.

So much for Angelica not wanting to be an inconvenience.

*
****

While waiting in front of the dorm for Heath to pick me up, I realize I’ve never seen his car. I’ve always been the one to drive to his parlor, and we never went anywhere after that, since we had plenty of ways to keep ourselves occupied there.

The heavy rumble of a car’s engine catches my attention out on the street before it turns into the parking lot. Its liquid black paint job shimmers in the streetlights lining the area as it passes underneath them. When the vehicle pulls into the spot right in front of me, I notice the Mustang logo on the hood.

The car’s engine rumbles again before shutting off. Heath exits the car and a gorgeous smile splits his mouth when he sees me. He proceeds to the passenger side and opens the door for me to get in. “Your chariot awaits,” he says, his smile somehow even more gorgeous than before.

“I guess you were right—chivalry isn’t dead,” I comment while settling into the car.

He laughs. “I told you that was a vicious rumor.”

The interior of his car is as black and lush as the rest of the vehicle, and the leather seats are in immaculate condition. Actually, the whole car is spotless. Either Heath takes really good care of this thing, or he did a last-minute major cleanup on my behalf. Either option is endearing.

“Nice wheels,” I say when he drops down into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks. I saved up for years to buy her.”

I can’t believe we both refer to our cars as a she. “Does
she
have a name?” I ask as he begins backing out.

“Yeah, but you’ll make fun of it if I tell you,” he answers.

“My car’s name is Scarlet, if that helps,” I say with a slight smile in his direction.

“Raven,” he says under his breath.

“Raven, huh?”

“I told you you’d laugh,” he murmurs.

“No, I like it. It fits,” I reply and a relieved smile shows on his face.

“Not to change the subject, but what exactly is your plan when we get to the bar?” he asks, getting right to business.

“Would you hurt me if I said I don’t have one?” I answer sheepishly.

“Really?” His reaction isn’t surprising.

“I’ve kind of always been a winger when it comes to stuff like this. Sure, I might think about what I want to do, but usually I tend to trust my instincts. They rarely do me wrong. It’s sort of a part of the Hunter’s creed. ‘Trust your instincts, for they are always right,’ or something like that,” I explain, but he doesn’t look amused. I get this feeling he’s a planning sort of guy.

“The fact that you’re so calm about all this and appear not to be that worried about what’s going on has me concerned. There are Hunters wanting to bring you in on suspicion of murder, someone has either possessed your brother or is masquerading as him, and now you’re about to walk into a bar full of paranormals
and
Hunters without a plan. I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it many times after this … you’re crazy.” I can tell he’s tense since he’s grinding his hands on the steering wheel.

“Again, tell me something I don’t know. I’m not going to apologize for my methods, but all I can say is that they get results—”

“Yeah, like you getting yourself shot after being assaulted by a group of Maulers,” he interrupts.

“I appreciate your concern and your assistance, but ultimately, it isn’t your ass on the line here, it’s mine. This is how I handle things, and I know what I have to do. You can stay and help me or not. Your choice.” Almost immediately after saying that, I feel bad. Here Heath is trying to help me, and I treat him like this.

“Of course I want to help you. I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I didn’t. I was just under the impression you’d have a strategy of some kind, that’s all,” he comments, loosening his grip on the steering wheel.

“Here’s the thing. You can have a strategy laid out, but rarely does it ever go as planned, right? I’ve got a general idea of what I need to do, and if all goes well, then hopefully everything will fall into place. That’s my plan. I’m reactionary to a fault, always have been, but it’s exactly that quick thinking that’s gotten me out of several sticky situations. So if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?”